


Together

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By Juxian TangAn alternative variant of the events in the Bitter Suite. Xena kills Gabrielle and turns to the dark side. Ares takes the hit. Xena's POV.Also, see the sequel to 'Together'. 'Always' by LadyKate.





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).
> 
> (WARNING: This story contains EXTREME violence) 
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the copyrighted property of USA Studios and others. They do not belong to the author of this story. 
> 
> Warnings: This story contains extreme and horrific violence, including mutilation, torture and sexual violence. 
> 
> Rated: NC-17

The collar around your neck glimmers silver through the long strands of your hair. You watch me as I pace around the tent. I don't mind feeling your gaze on me - anyway, there is nothing else you can do. The chain doesn't let you move, no more than for a few inches, and your knees must really hurt by now. But you don't expect me to release you; you know I won't and you don't want to humiliate yourself with a useless plea. I hate this passive defiance of yours; these remnants of your pride that I didn't manage to exterminate in you, despite everything.   
  
Well, you are not going to spoil my mood today, no matter how you try. I stretch and smile, thinking about the march we are going to take tomorrow. We have to move - there is nothing to do for me here any more. The land is too ravaged and the people, these cowards, flee away from me. Like there is somewhere I shan't be able to reach for them.   
  
But the inland waits for me. So rich, so peaceful - so unscathed. Ready for us to come and take it; to bring it death and destruction that it didn't know before.   
  
You know my plans - you are the first one I share them with. You are closer to me than anyone else, you know that - whom can I trust more than you? You witness the conception of all my schemes, all my ideas. I can even say you mastermind them - wordlessly, just by being here, just by letting me see the glimmer of your eyes. You are proud of me, I know that. And you'll admit it, one day.   
  
I stop in front of you, sink my hands in your soft hair and raise your face towards me. Your eyes become so strange when you look at me from below: as if it hurts you to see me. What's wrong? Isn't my face beautiful enough for you any more? Don't you like what you see in it? Well, I am sorry but it's your own fault. Stand it. Stand what you have done to me! Live with it!   
  
I hit you. The impact of my gauntlet makes you gasp and nearly slump down; your hands chained behind your back make it almost impossible to keep the balance. Oh Ares... Why do you have to make everything so difficult?   
  
I don't expect you to answer. I know you can't; I cut out your tongue. I remember how you screamed when I pressed the smoldering piece of wood to the wound, searing it - and then, a moment before you passed out, your eyes went huge and kind of surprised. Like you couldn't believe I'd actually done it to you.   
  
I miss your voice, you know; I miss you saying my name when you come. But I consider it a small price to pay for being safe with you, for knowing that you will never be able to poison me with your words again, to push me into doing something I don't want to.   
  
You made me kill Gabrielle. My innocent, beautiful Gabrielle. I was almost becoming a good person, with her guiding me, you know. Saving people, defending the weak, yadda, yadda... And now look where I am! Devastating towns and villages all along the coast. So much a monster that mothers don't dare frighten their children with me. Because it is what I really do - come and take their lives.   
  
Sometimes I think I don't kill you not to stay alone in all this. And because I like the feeling of your soft lips split under my fist, of course.   
  
Now look what you've done; your blood is all over the back of my hand. You are such a mess, Ares, I don't know how I can stand you sometimes. Here, stop it. Don't try to pull away. You know I am not letting you go. And I do nothing that doesn't serve you right; that doesn't bring us closer. Nothing prevents us from being close now, remember? No one stands between us.   
  
I remember everything... You were so nice to me after I'd done what you wanted. You helped me to get Gabrielle's body from the water and lit the funeral fire for it. And as you stood behind me while I watched her burn, your hands gathered my hair, slid over the back of my neck so gently; almost like you didn't want to bed me, just wanted to console.   
  
But it didn't prevent you from fucking me through the ground later that night - and I heard you whisper in my ear, the words soft like silk and trapping like tar:   
  
"You are mine, Xena, you are mine again."   
  
You promised me all those wonderful, terrifying things we would do together: armies gathered, villages burnt and people wheeled and quartered - and I didn't say 'no'.   
  
Do you like how I fulfill your promises?   
  
I lied to you. I know it was not a good thing to do - but why would you expect good from me? I made you believe that I became what you wanted me to be. Your princess, your slayer, your beloved.   
  
I lied to Zeus, too. Your old man was really easy. It didn't take so much effort to convince him that you were plotting against him. It was what he always kind of expected from you. And he believed me when I said you told me about it; everyone knew you had no closer confidant than me. My acting was perfect, though; I put some remorse into it, like the conspiracy to kill the King of Gods was too much for me to stomach, that's why I was giving you away. I bet you didn't have time to understand what hit you.   
  
And then, mortal and defenseless, you were mine.   
  
I remember you dragged to the camp behind the horse. You didn't look your best after that - your clothes torn and smeared with blood, your hair and face dirty and with streaks of red on them. Your eyes were wide with pain as you tried to get up and realized you had a few ribs broken. Oh yes, it hurt. But do you think my sweet Gabrielle was not hurt when I dragged her on the tip of my whip?   
  
You looked angry - almost incredulous - as you said something like:   
  
"Are you mad, Xena? You are going to regret it."   
  
Yet beneath arrogance, beneath contempt in your eyes I could see you were afraid. Of what I could do to you. Or, maybe, of what you'd done to me.   
  
You wanted me on the dark side? Here I was.   
  
You fought like mad when my men stripped and chained you, pulling your arms wide apart. I looked how your naked body trembled in tension as you tried to stand on your tiptoes. I knew you felt the leering, appraising stares of my men, heard their rude remarks as they commented on your beauty and your futile struggles. I let them talk before I handed my whip to one of them.   
  
Oh, I will forget for nothing how you jerked when it slashed across your back for the first time. A new experience for you, wasn't it? A moment before it, you glared at me and started saying something, some stupid abusive thing that demonstrated nothing but your weakness. And then you had to stop abruptly and clamp your teeth on your lip not to let out a cry of pain.   
  
You strove forward, away from the next blow - but how far did the chains let you go? I saw your blood spatter the dust under your feet. The whip kept dancing over your back, - and soon you left your stubborn attempts of keeping silent - first making short, harsh cries and then almost sobbing.   
  
You know, baby, I almost wanted to stop it when I heard it, when I saw your eyelashes get wet with your tears. I wanted to come up to you and hold you, put your head on my armored chest and stroke your soft hair until you stopped shivering.   
  
But it was too early; you were not broken enough. And more than hugging and kissing you I wanted to see you smitten - destroyed; all that made you yourself gone from you. I wanted vengeance. For Gabrielle. For me.   
  
I gave a sign and the whip wrapped around your body - a mean kind of blow, the one that made you scream. The thick welts on your skin looked weird; they didn't belong there. But the more I liked to see them. You almost passed out when the whip cut across your balls. Was it too much pain? I looked in your eyes and I didn't let you go. Cold water brought you back - leaked pink over your body, washing away your blood - and you shivered in cold and despair of being yanked away from the welcome oblivion.   
  
And if you thought the whipping was the worst I could do to you, you were wrong. Next I allowed my men to amuse themselves - and you even didn't get it at first, what I said, what I let them do. I could see it in the confused, questioning look of your eyes. You flinched and tried to get away when a man ran his hand over your back. You tried to look at him over your shoulder - how dared he touch you? Then he started forcing his fingers inside you and you went wild.   
  
You cursed him, you cursed me, you promised the punishment that would make us dream about Tartarus. But all of that were just words - unsubstantial in comparison to the cruel materiality of the rough fingers thrusting relentlessly inside you. Blood leaked on the back of your leg; he'd torn you at the very first moment. It was just a small trickle, just like the others that marred your body by then - but somehow it meant so much more, meant the change for you that you would never be able to revert. It transformed you, Ares, by the simple fact that someone violated you and you couldn't defend yourself.   
  
I know all about change, Ares. I tried to change and you denied it to me. Now it was your turn to become something different.   
  
You tensed when the wide tip of his cock replaced his fingers at you entrance. You tried not to let him it. You arrogant fool, I would think you'd know better than that - better than inflict yourself additional pain. How pale your face went as he slammed inside you! Even your lips went white in pain.   
  
You breathed so weirdly - odd, shallow sounds. You whimpered. You probably didn't know it - but you made these little pathetic sounds, like a hurt puppy. You, the God of War, my creator, my protector... Did I love hearing it!   
  
The man who fucked you held you in the circle of his arms, close like a lover, and his armor rubbed against your back, making it bleed harder. It probably hurt even more than the cock up your ass, although I was not sure you could identify the sources of pain distinctly by then. Then he made his hand in a fist and slammed against your broken ribs. I could see how the sharp ends of the bone pierced your skin under his blow.   
  
Your eyes rolled up - but no, I was not going to let you pass on me! A thin blade, heated to glowing, pressed to your nipple - and you jerked out of where you were going to escape - and struggled back from the heat, towards the man. And feeling you push back pleased him so much that, with a hoarse cry, he came into your body.   
  
You don't even know his name, do you - the name of the man who was the first to pump his seed into your ass?   
  
You know I still can see the trace that the blade left on your chest, over your left nipple. It healed by now, more or less - but you wince and try to get away every time when I run my fingernails over it.   
  
The man's cock trailed a string of pink cum as he pulled out of you - red of your blood dissolved in white. He slicked you for the next one - but I don't think it made it easier for you. There was no annoying resistance when the next man entered you - but you were torn bloody by then. Must've felt like the burning rod shoved into you.   
  
You flinched when the man fucked you and you bit your lips when he stuck his fingernails into your hips, pulling you closer. You were not used to it then; you are now. These traces never heal on your skin since then, renewed every time when I give you away. That's the traces slaves and whores wear, as telltale ones... just as the semi-circles of bites on your neck and shoulders. At first my men were reticent about it; but later they understood I didn't mind. In fact, I love it, you know, to lie with you and trace my fingers over the fresh and healing imprints of their teeth, wondering who left them, do you even know that, and to feel how you tremble slightly in pain of my touches and press closer towards me.   
  
You don't know how many of them there were, that first time, do you? I didn't let you slip into unconsciousness - but you were not really lucid either. And even when you almost stopped feeling their cocks up your ass, you still felt when they pinched and twisted your nipples, the whole and the burnt one, making blood trickle down your chest. I remember how you jerked, trying to get away from their hands as they squeezed your balls until you started crying out - terrified shrieks that were so full of pain that there was no place for anything else in them.   
  
Do you remember how they fisted you? The fist was bigger than any cock you'd taken before that - and its slammed was so heavily that you couldn't even scream, couldn't take a breath enough for that. Your blood was a glimmering, scarlet glove on the man's hand.   
  
You seemed unconscious after they were done - hung on your hands, your face so exhausted as if it was not just half a night you spent in these chains but days or weeks. Your head drooped, your hair hid your face but didn't hide blood that leaked from your mouth. You almost looked like you were beyond pain, beyond anything I could do to you.   
  
But you came round when they pissed on you - maybe, the last thing that could still shock you. At that moment your eyes found me - and for once there was no hatred or anger in them - but a call for protection. You wanted me to protect you from what they were doing!   
  
You wanted me to protect you from what I was doing to you.   
  
Do you know what I thought about then? How I held Gabrielle over the waterfall and her blood dripped on my face - and how she screamed as I threw her - and the freedom I felt then - and the emptiness in my heart as she was gone.   
  
You thought you freed the place for yourself, by making me kill her? Well, maybe, you did. You had to be with me instead of her now.   
  
You didn't understand it then - my need, why I had to do what I'd done. You looked at me like I did something wrong to you as I took your tongue and blood leaked in a wide flow from your wounded mouth. But I think you understand now, don't you?   
  
Or shall I explain again?   
  
I hit you again and then kneel in front of you, take your face in my hands. There is blood on your lips and I don't know if it is because I backhanded you - or you cough it up from your lungs. It is shimmering red on the pink of your lips - your lips that are still so soft, so sweet that I can't help but kiss them.   
  
My kiss does what my blows can never do. Your eyes go all mellow and defenseless - and you lean towards me, cling to me, despite the hard curves of my breastplate that jam into your chest. You move your legs apart as I slide my hand down your body.   
  
No. Too early. Your head dangles as I slap you, your eyes become unfocused. When will you learn? I know you want me, want me so much that you forget or disregard the pain I can inflict you.   
  
Patience, my little one.   
  
I run my fingers over your face. I know your features so well, my hands remember them even with my eyes closed. So flawless; so fragile. You know now, when you are mortal, I can kill you with my bare hands. Can crush every bone in your body and tear every bit of flesh from your bones. Maybe, one day I shall do it.   
  
You look at me questioningly, moving your shoulders, trying to free your hands. You know you won't be able to - they are chained behind your back - and you only hurt yourself doing it. Your wrists almost healed after the last time you broke them but the bones are still brittle. Hey, I didn't break your arms - it was all your fault; you shouldn't have thrashed so hard when I sent you out to my men.   
  
Yes, I know you hate when I do it. Still can't get used to it - even though, you must agree, my men really deserve some diversion. How far do you think I would move without them? Without this divine fire in their eyes as they rape, burn and kill - the fire you'd never been able to light in them - but I could.   
  
So, it is just fair that sometimes I send you outside, to them, to pleasure themselves with your body for the entire night. You are weak like a kitten when they return you to me, wet with the water they pour on you to wash the traces of their games and your blood from your body. Sometimes I think that I like you this way even better - as you lie shivering and I have to work to coax your into hardness - and it is not an easy task because your genitals are bruised black and blue and even the slightest touch of my hand makes you convulse in pain.   
  
Now, kiss me. Yes, like that. I like your lips. It's okay that you don't have tongue to thrust against mine. I probe the rough scar in your mouth and feel you shudder. It still didn't heal completely; still hurts. But it is only a moment - and then you press yourself to me, your soft lips locked on mine.   
  
I feel your cock against my belly; you are so hard. All you can do is not start thrusting against me. I weigh your balls in my palm, enjoy their softness in my squeezing hand - and you balance on the thin line between crying out and coming. Don't do it to me, Ares, don't be like that! So easy to hurt and to please... how can I resist doing both?   
  
Your cock butts against my palm, heavy and wet-tipped. I take it, first playfully - and then grip it hard. The moans you make, so soft, like breaths, make me light-headed, make me ready to go over the end. I settle down on your lap and guide your cock into me. It makes me clench my jaws to feel you slide inside - but pain and pleasure I feel are nothing in comparison with the sweet torment on your face.   
  
Wait a little bit. You can't move. Only I can do it.   
  
And sliding up and down your cock, I cover your face with little kisses and I think about everything you did for me. You created me and I'll never forget it. You saved me from Gabrielle and I'll never thank you enough for it. I owe you - all my achievements, all my crimes, all the pain I can inflict. And when you groan and your eyes get wild as you lose control, I whisper into your mouth:   
  
"I love you."   
  
I'll never let you down. I am the strong one now. You can rely on me - in everything.   
  
You lie on my arm after that, your eyes closed - and your eyelashes flutter so slightly as you shift restlessly, in half-awareness. Shh, don't fear, I am with you.   
  
Sleep, my dear one, my boy. We are starting at dawn, so, get a good rest. Tomorrow you will be riding at my side. Your place is there - just like it meant to be. My teacher, my consort, my whore. Isn't it what you always wanted: you and me - together?..   
  


The End

Please read the sequel to "Together" Always by LadyKate 


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